To Break A Crown
by Krilleh
Summary: Post-Boredom. Can there be more after making it to the top?
1. Prologue: A Lonely Wait

A heavy torrent of water rammed against the wall, quickly followed by a flash of grey. The shadow deftly evaded all of the attacks, skimming the ground at an almost unfollowable speed. The large turtle Pokemon roared in frustration. Harsh stadium lights illuminated the event, casting sharp glares against the small figures on the ground. To the untrained eye, it looked like only a lone Blastoise was dancing around with its shadow. However, the two battlers standing on the opposite sides of the field knew better.

The trainer near the entrance bit his lip nervously, but quickly regained confidence. It was almost the end of his adventure. This was the moment that he had been training for. The moment that every trainer trains for. He was going to become the Champion after this battle. This is how it always happens, he assured himself. It may look like he was going to lose the battle, but he was going to make a comeback in the end. This is how every epic journey ended and he was sure that his would not be any different.

The trainer near the great pillars of the stadium watched the flood of emotions on his opponents face with disinterest. His lackluster gray hair was barely ruffled. A dark purple pin on his coat glinted in the light. He would have felt more pity if he wasn't five minutes late for an appointment.

"Sol? Thunderbolt, please."

The shadow stopped and morphed into a round purple beast with a wide grin. It smirked before releasing a bolt of lightning from the center of its body.

The boy slumped down. That was the last Pokemon from his team. "Crypto…?" He called out to his motionless partner. There was no response. It was over. His companions viewing from the stands inclined their heads down and discussed this turn of events in hushed whispers, shooting a glance at their unfortunate friend every so often. The receptionist peeked her head in from the door and gently tapped the boy on the shoulder.

"The battle has ended," she said kindly. "You may return to re-battle our Elite Four in a year. You can use the time to improve!" The boy didn't move. His jaw was slack. He had the expression of one who had just touched the tail of an Ampharos. The receptionist sidled up to the other trainer.

"Mr. Krime? That last Thunderbolt didn't have any…side effects did it?"

He shook his head in amusement. "No. The poor kid is in shock from losing. Happens all the time. Can someone get a Skitty in here?"

The receptionist dug a pokeball out of her purse. A small pink Pokemon jumped to the boy with a look of concentration. It raised its large tail and slapped him across the face. Multiple times. It took two very red slap marks on each of his cheeks to bring him to his senses.

"Hey! Hey! Get that thing away from me!" The boy jumped to his feet and looked at him. "What did I do wrong?"

"Wrong?" Krime furrowed his eyebrows.

"I got a good starter! I've caught just about every Pokemon I've run into!" He took out the Pokedex from his pocket and stared emptily at it before slamming the device onto the ground. The old screen jaggedly cracked down the middle. "What more do I need to do? Why couldn't I win?!"

Krime paused and gave him his full attention. The boy squirmed underneath his scrutinizing gaze. After a heavy silence, Krime turned around and began walking out of the arena.

"The answer is simple," he called out. His voice lonely echoed around the empty stadium. "It is because you aren't good enough."

* * *

Ryan Malts roared in laughter and slapped Krime's shoulder with a meaty hand. "You're an egotistical little bastard, you know that?"

Krime nearly dropped his drink at the force of the impact. "Is it my fault that the kid has no talent?"

"Oi, you're just a kid yourself!" The large man slammed his fist down onto the table. "Waiter! I need another drink! A drink for a real man!"

"Please be careful Malts," Flannery Jem gently urged, flipping a waterfall of blond hair behind her shoulder. "A challenger is coming tomorrow and we need to be ready." The man to her right winked at her.

"I'm always ready, Flanny my love-" He was promptly kicked in the shin.

"Shut up Vector." Flannery got up with a huff and moved to sit between Krime and Malts instead.

The rest of the tavern watched the quartet in awe and disbelief. It wasn't every day that the Four Elites of Theta came out in such a public facility. Half were wondering if they should ask for an autograph while the other half regretted not getting take out. It was quite a sight to see. Three out of the four bickered like children while the shortest one sat quietly.

_"What did I do wrong?"_

It almost reminded Krime of himself. Most trainers set out on their own after finishing their basic schooling. His father insisted that schooling was for wimps. He was hitting the gyms once he was six years old. And your classic starters? In his father's eyes, they were as good as a bagful of Caterpies. And no son of his was going to start out with a weak Pokemon.

_"Gastly," his father introduced to a five-year old Krime, "is speedy and will be able to learn some impressive moves." The smiling ball of gas moved closer to the shivering boy. Shadows pulsed ominously around it. "But be careful. It's a little hard to control…"_

"Krime? Are you alright? You're a little quiet." Flannery nudged his arm in concern.

"Just being nostalgic," he shrugged. "I think I'd better go. I'm getting tired." Ignoring Malt's jeers about kiddy bedtimes, he walked out of the restaurant. He had more important things to think about. Krime had finally recognized the symptoms that plagued him.

Boredom. A sigh-inducing, hair-ripping type of boredom. He didn't get the same adrenaline rush from battling anymore. Of course, he lost occasionally (he was only human), but his defeats never motivated him like they did before. Everyone was the same. Everything was the same. He had made it to the top; his name was famous around the region and beyond, but sometimes he couldn't help but wish that there was something more. Can't something, anything change?

Streetlamps dimly lit the empty boulevard. The noise of the city was only a muted hum here. Krime walked on, his head down, his back to the distant bright lights. A Leipard hissed as he passed, leaping from its residential trashcan with a clang to find a more secluded alleyway. Few people were out at this time, so Krime was alone with his thoughts. Well, not completely alone. He glanced towards a dark corner. "Hey, I already saw you. Come out."

The same purple creature emerged from the shadows. The temperature around him immediately dropped as it glided to him. But Krime didn't mind. He learned to find its cold presence comforting. His Gengar languidly drifted to a telephone pole with a piece of paper nailed on. Krime shoved his hands into his pockets and walked over to it.

_"I can't do it! Nothing is happening like it should!" A small boy sniffled. His father peered down at him in disdain._

_"Then make it happen."_

Krime smiled as he read the small sign. Oh yes, something was going to change. He ripped out the paper and tucked it into his pocket. It was time that this repetitiveness ended.

* * *

**AN:** Hello! This is my first story on fanfiction, so please excuse any formatting problems or general noobness. I'm thinking about letting readers suggest characters into the story, although I guess I'll see how that goes. Feedback, complaints, or just any general form of reviews would be much appreciated! Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 1: Demon Flames

Flannery Jem hated slackers. She also hated hot weather, salty foods, and winding roads, but slakers topped that list and more. So when someone showed up late, Flannery was not a happy woman. And when Flannery was not happy, the people around her felt her quiet wrath. As she angrily paced back and forth, Vector and Malts stood uneasily at the edge of the stadium, slowly inching towards the exit.

"He's late," she snarled. The Weavile at her side meticulously sharpened its claws on a disfigured slate of metal. Vector flinched as it looked at him with a glint in its eyes.

"That's what you said two hours ago," Vector mumbled and quickly cowered as she whirled around and glared at him. Malts quickly planted his stout body between the two and raised his hands for calm.

"Whoa everyone! We can just cancel the challenge for today. It's no big deal, yeah? The kid is probably being influxed by hormones or something." He clapped his hands in glee as an idea came to him. "We can take the day off! Go to a restaurant…"

Vector snorted. "And what, get even more fat? Are you trying to hibernate? Flanny my love, how about we go on a date-" His air supply was abruptly cut off as a large hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and hoisted him into the air. He was soon at eye-level with a man whose face had turned an alarming shade of red.

"What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me?" Malts accentuated every word by poking Vector's chest.

"Err…." Vector's heart sank as he realized where this was going. "Pleasantly plump?"

With a ferocious roar, Malts grabbed Vector's collar in a firmer grip and began to spin around like a heavily-muscular ballerina. After a couple of rounds, he expertly flicked his wrist, sending Vector flying through the glass roof of the stadium. Ever the faithful companion, Ambipom jumped onto Malt's shoulder and clapped enthusiastically. He turned around and was surprised to see a disgruntled Flannery.

The blond woman crossed her arms. "I wanted to do that."

* * *

Going undercover was much harder than he thought it'd be. Pulling his cap down, Krime carefully weaved through the crowd. The Elite Four were always in demand for advertisements and magazines and even a young child could recognize his face. Struggling to see above the mass of people, a large banner caught his attention. It was a poster of the Elite Four that advertised a Gym. He was near the center of the photo, a slight scowl graced his features. Krime had always hated these photo-shoots. After studying it for another second, he almost slapped his forehead. Krime was wearing the same clothes as he did in the banner. Now anyone really could recognize him. He had to get out of here fast.

"Hey Mister! Hey!" A small girl tugged on his sleeve. Her long light-colored hair waved crazily around her. "Umm, do you know where the Westport Pokecenter is?"

Without turning around, he responded. "It's just a little north of here." Krime quickly pulled free from her grip and continued struggling through the crowd, only to have her latch on to his other arm.

"Wait! But then I can't go there! The Chains are battling right now. That's why all these people are here."

Krime raised an eyebrow. As he pushed to the front of the crowd, he saw that a group of young men had formed a wide circle. Two trainers were battling in the middle of it, their respective Pokemon circled each other like ravenous Mightyenas. Krime had nothing against street-battles, but it annoyed him that they had to do this right in front of a Pokecenter. The people around him seemed to share his sentiments.

"You delinquents! Go play somewhere else!" An old man cried out, waving his cane in the air. One man turned around with a smug look.

"Why? Do you want to 'play' with us?" Two lackeys dragged the old man into the center of the circle. He quickly beat them off with his cane, but it was too late. "Where's your Pokemon, old man? Show us what you got!" Krime tapped his foot impatiently. He didn't have time for this. With a twitch of his hand, Gengar detached himself from his shadow and swiftly glided towards the circle. The man suddenly felt himself shiver. "Yo, who turned on the aircondtioning?"

Gengar attached itself to the old man's shadow and began to lengthen into what appeared to be a beast complete with jagged teeth and a twisted smile. Everyone began to back away. "You crazy old coot!" One of them shouted. "You're a monster! Everyone run!"

The old man looked around in surprise. "What…?" As if to emphasize the shadow, a blast of fire flew right over the his head, nearly burning the little hair he had left. Everyone began to run away in earnest. "He's a demon!" The crowd broke in a panic.

"What was that?" The girl asked in a hushed whisper. Krime was irritated to see that she was still clinging onto his arm.

"An illusion," he replied smoothly. "At least, the shadow part was. And as for the fire…"

The smoke dispersed to reveal a young woman wearing a tidy nurse uniform. An Arcanine stood at her side; tendrils of smoke were still floating out of its mouth. However, instead of the gentleness that a nurse usually exuded, the woman looked like she would punch anyone who looked at her the wrong way. After helping the confused old man up, she turned around and faced him, putting her hands on her hips. "Krime Loop, you ass! What the hell are you doing here?"

The girl trembled and hid behind him. "W-who is she?"

Krime smiled tiredly. This was going to be a long day. "The real demon."

* * *

**AN: **Sort of a short chapter. I'm also trying out character submissions now. If you'd like to submit a character into this story, please pm me! Any feedback or complaint is welcomed. Thanks for reading!


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